


Festered Scars

by faierius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, GladNoct if you squint and tilt your head, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post Dawn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-World of Ruin, Regret, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:16:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faierius/pseuds/faierius
Summary: Wounds left untreated have a tendency to fester. The same can be said for emotional trauma. The scars are not pretty, be they physical or emotional.An accident occurs during Citadel restoration, sending Prompto to the infirmary. While sitting at his bedside, Ignis contemplates his relationship with the man.





	Festered Scars

            Not _every_ room in the recently cleaned and refurbished Citadel needed inauguration. Some were better without, in all honesty. One such room was the infirmary. Injury and sickness were not to be celebrated. Especially after wading through so much, and worse, to get to this point. They had all seen their share, more than their share, of sickness, injury, and death. People had either become jaded to it or overly sensitive, there was no in between.

            Unfortunately, too many years seeing his loved ones on the verge of death made Ignis Scientia slightly over-reactive. He always tried his best to hide it, but a lifetime of keeping himself and those around him calm and safe frayed his edges a little. Sadly, one of those frays was much more tenuous than the others, and it unraveled a few years from his life when he heard the words _Prompto_ and _unconscious_ as two soldiers sprinted past.

            Dropping everything, Ignis headed straight for the infirmary. Moving through the maze of hallways and construction zones, it took him a while to find the room. His heart hammered against his ribs and his mind raced. He needed answers, and he needed to see Prompto.

            Well… _see_ was a relative term. While his sight was returning, it was a slow, torturous process. The Astrals were not kind when they stole his vision, and they certainly were not kind returning it. Some days were so bad, he couldn’t function through the pain. The next day, his sight was always a little clearer.

            Moving into the infirmary, his ears immediately locked onto a commotion towards the back of the room. Behind a privacy curtain, a half-dozen shadows moved about. Eyes darting around, he tried to find someone to talk to.

            “Mr. Scientia?”

            Ignis turned toward the voice. From what he could tell through the vague outline and blobs of color, a young person in a nurse uniform called out to him.

            “You’re here for Mr. Argentum?” the person asked, stepping closer.

            Some semblance of a face came into focus now that they were only a couple feet away. “Is he okay?” Ignis asked, forgetting himself and his manners in his panic.

            They nodded. “As far as I know, he’ll be okay. The doctor and head nurse are fixing him up right now.”

            The reassurance was insufficient. He needed to see the man for himself. He started toward the little cubicle at the back, but the nurse grabbed his arm.

            “You can’t see him yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait until they’re done,” the nurse told him.

            Ignis detested the professional sympathy in their voice. He clenched his teeth and choked back his worry long enough to be civil. “How long?” he asked. He could hear the tightness in his voice, and he hated it. When he was younger, no one would have known he was trying to quash panic. So much of his life revolved around him being restrained and professional; he had a public façade to maintain. But when it came to a certain few, those reins slipped from his fingers.

            “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

            Ignis wasn’t sure what expression was on his face right now, but the nurse mumbled something and scurried away toward the action at the back of the room. He was left standing alone, trying not to itch at the scar surrounding his eye. Prompto was always quick to scold him when he unwittingly fell into the nervous habit.

            Standing still, he listened to his heartbeat, as well as whatever was going on behind the privacy curtain. The voices muttered too quietly for him to make out words, but the tones were soft and calm. There was a gentle clatter of steel on steel as an instrument was dropped into a tray. A muted splat, presumably from a sponge or gauze hitting the floor. The rhythmic beep of machines. None of these sounds diffused his panic.

            “Uh, Mr. Scientia?”

            Gaze snapping to the voice, he found the nurse once again standing before him.

            “The doctor says you can go back now. He’s almost done. He also said to warn you it looks worse than it is.”

            “Thank you.”

            Taking a deep breath scented with chemicals and the coppery tang of blood, Ignis forced himself forward. The back of the infirmary seemed so far away, and his heartbeat and footsteps so loud. Even he couldn’t mask how terrified he was of what he may see behind the curtain. Fear made him hesitate, possibly for the first time. But not for long. He clenched his fists, steeled his jaw, and stepped behind the privacy curtain.

            His heart dropped, but his analytical mind kicked in, as it often did during moments of duress. It was his one saving grace, really. There was blood everywhere, Prompto was still in his work clothes, unconscious with an IV flowing into his arm. Ignis. Ignis couldn’t see the extent of the damage through the doctor and nurses, but he knew it was a head injury of some sort. That accounted for blood. The doctor did say it looked worse than it was.

            “Word didn’t take long to reach you, Ignis.”

            Recognizing the voice of the man, Ignis felt some of his tension dissipate. The doctor was a long-time field companion of those who fought during the Darkness. An original survivor of the Fall of Insomnia, he held his own through the ten-year night. They were lucky to now have him as a Citadel physician.

            “By luck, really. What happened, Doctor?” Ignis tried to peek around the man, but his broad shoulders blocked what little vision he had.

            “Didn’t I tell you to call me Asa?” Shaking his head and breathing out a sigh, the man straightened up and stepped away from Prompto.

            Before Ignis could get a look at the man, the nurses moved in to finish up the treatment. So, he swallowed his impatience and focused on the doctor. “Of course, Asa. Please,” Ignis sighed the word, “tell me he’ll be alright.”

            Peeling off his blood-slick gloves, Asa twisted his mouth to one side. “He’ll live. Gonna have a scar to rival yours, but he’ll be fine,” the man assured him, tossing out his gloves and steering Ignis out of the cubicle.

            “A scar?” Ignis asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

            Asa chuckled, clapping him on the back. “No matter what that kid does, it renders you speechless. You don’t have to be so worried about him. He’s got a thick skull.”

            Ignis’ brow twitched into a frown. “So, it is a head wound, then? Do you know how it happened?”

            “The boys who brought him in told me he got his foot caught in a rope while up on scaffolding. He bashed his head on the way down. Prompto’s made of rubber, though; no broken bones. He’ll be bruised black and blue soon, but otherwise unhurt. We have to wait and see if he gave himself a concussion since the blow knocked him out. Would be easier to do if I had all my equipment up and running, but since I can’t do any cranial or neural scans, we’ll have to test the old-fashioned way once he wakes up,” explained Asa, picking a clipboard up off the desk and scribbling something on it.

            Gritting his teeth, Ignis was torn between anger at Prompto’s stupidity and clumsiness, worry for his health and safety, and irritation at their lack of qualified technicians to fix the much-needed machinery.

            “If you don’t take a breath, your head’s gonna pop, Ignis,” Asa teased, scrubbing his hand through his greying hair before crossing his arms. “Seriously, you can relax. I know how much he worries you, but this isn’t even in the top ten injuries I’ve patched up with him. Just be happy this wasn’t on purpose like some of the ones I dealt with in the early days.”

            “At least back then I couldn’t see how bad his wounds were,” Ignis answered softly, eyes locking on the curtain.

            Asa stared at Ignis for a moment before sighing. “The nurses are just cleaning up now, so go sit with him. Maybe if he feels you there, he’ll come around sooner.”

            “Thank you, Asa.” Licking his lips, Ignis took a steadying breath and went to find the chair he would reside upon until Prompto regained consciousness.

            When he got close enough to properly see Prompto, Ignis let out a shaky breath. The blood had been cleaned from his face, his blood-stained shirt removed, as well as his boots, a warm blanket draped across his body, and a sterile white bandage covered a large portion of the right side of his face.

            “Oh, Prompto,” he sighed, dropping into the chair already pulled next to his bedside. “How many times have I told you to be careful?” Blinking against the burn in his eyes, Ignis found Prompto’s hand beneath the blanket.

            Looking at Prompto’s half-visible face made his chest hurt. Not just because of the wound, but because seeing his face still seemed odd. This wasn’t the face he knew before losing his sight, and despite mapping out the man’s changed features with his fingers, it was still a little wrong. His face widened with the muscle he gained, the heavy bags under his eyes were persistent, his freckles faded, his hair was shorter and paler, and the lines forming around his eyes were not happy ones. Prompto’s sunshiny radiance was slowly returning, but he lost his glow for a long time.

            Leaning on the edge of the bed, Ignis reached up to stroke the man’s hair. IT was stiff with hair product, and a little oily from sweating in the summer sun. He was working harder than anyone, helping to rebuild homes, repair structures, and get machinery up and running again. He was always fixing something, and Ignis admired his persistence.

            Sighing softly, Ignis’ lips quirked in a brief smile. Leave it to Prompto to make him overthink more than any subject ever had. Going through life, always know what needed to be done, what move to make next, reacting in a split second…Prompto destroyed all of it. He threw him for a loop, turned his world upside down, and made him unsure of everything.  And Ignis loved every second.

            He loved the chaos, the unpredictable moments, the sweet tenderness, the distractions, the stolen kisses…He loved how Prompto was the polar opposite of everything Ignis was meant to be. He loved Prompto, and that was all there was to it.

            He hated sitting here, unable to take his pain away.

            Bringing Prompto’s hand to his lips, Ignis kissed his scarred, scraped knuckles. Closing his eyes, he felt tears roll down his cheeks. He grit his teeth and swallowed hard, putting his head in his arms on the side of the bed. It was ridiculous to cry over something so superficial, but Prompto brought out the worst in him. And the best.

            Not for the first time, Ignis regretted not allowing the other man in earlier.

            “You’re getting soft in your old age,” teased a gruff voice.

            Ignis sat up, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve noticed that as well, Gladio.”

            The man chuckled, putting a heavy hand on Ignis’ shoulder. “The softer side looks good on you.”

            “How can I still be such a disaster around him, even after all this time?”

            “You’ve never been a disaster in your life, Ig.”

            “I wish I could believe that Gladio, but the state I’m in at the moment tells a different story.”

            “What _state_? You’re worried about him. Rightly so. You’re also exhausted, overworked, and haven’t had a chance to unwind in…who knows how long. Now you’re seeing him like this. It’s enough to get tears from a stone, man.” Gladio squeezed Ignis’ shoulder before stepping back and crossing his arms.

            “Are you speaking from experience, or just trying to make me feel better?” Ignis asked, glancing up at his friend.

            “Oh, c’mon. Don’t pretend you don’t remember all those nights you sat up with me, with Prompto, while Noct was gone.”

            “I try not to remember.”

            Gladio’s reply was no more than a soft rumble in his throat.

            “Why did you come, Gladio? Surely not to drudge up painful memories,” Ignis said, rubbing his thumb over Prompto’s knuckles.

            “Believe it or not, I worry about him, too. He’s my brother.”

            “So, it isn’t just on His Majesty’s request?”

            “The hell’s that supposed to mean, Ignis?”

            Brow twitching into a frown, Ignis pulled his glasses off and closed his eyes. “Nothing. I was just recalling a time when you didn’t care. When I had to step in to care for all of us.”

            “Shit. Ig, I—”

            Shaking his head, Ignis cut off Gladio’s apology. “I don’t need a reminder of the times I almost lost him while he’s lying here unconscious. Seeing him wounded now is quite enough, thank you.”

            “Asa said he’ll be okay.”

            “I’m aware.”

            Gladio shifted uncomfortably before sighing. “Look, Ig, I get it. I do. But he’s gonna be fine, so there’s no use dragging yourself through all this shit again.”

            Ignis couldn’t find an answer to that. They had all been in the clear so long now, he almost forgot accidents and regular injuries occurred. He felt like he was failing in his promise to protect Prompto. It was not a promise he took lightly. His vow to protect Noctis resulted in a deal with the Gods and his loss of vision, after all.

            “Don’t beat yourself up, Ig. It was a run of the mill accident. You couldn’t have done anything even if you were there.”

            “I could have told him to be careful. To watching his footing. To use a proper safety harness.”

            Gladio growled low in his throat. “Ignis. Stop looking for excuses to blame yourself. Insomnia was not your fault. Altissia was not your fault. The Crystal was not your fault. None of the injuries or deaths during those long years were your fault. _This_ is not your fault! Give up this need to feel guilty all the time. Oh, and while you’re at it, be a little more giving in your relationship. He’s not going anywhere, so you don’t have to feed him your affection piecemeal.”

            To avoid squeezing Prompto’s fingers, Ignis released his hand and clenched his fists to hide his trembling. He took slow, deliberate breaths, trying to sort through Gladio’s accusations. Anger bubbled in his chest at the truth of the man’s words, mixed with pain and sadness. Too many years of holding himself together, and all it took to break him was a simple accident.

            “I’ll talk to Noct. We can get someone else to oversee construction while Prompto heals, and someone else to assist Noct while you take care of him.”

            “I don’t need the pity, Gladio. I can still perform my duties.”

            “Just take the break, Ignis.”

            “Could you guys argue somewhere else?” Prompto grumbled hoarsely, cracking his visible eye open.

            “Hey there, Sunshine. How’s your head?” Gladio asked, voice soft as he smiled down at the blond.

            “Hurts like hell.”

            “I bet. Heard you bounced off the concrete pretty good.”

            “I’m getting too old to keep up my human basketball routine,” Prompto groaned, gently touching the bandage on his face.

            Gladio chuckled.

            Wincing, Prompto turned his head to face Ignis. “The big guy’s right, y’know. About a lot of stuff. I’ve been listing to you guys for a while now, and you can’t blame yourself for this. I was wearing my gear, but the strap broke when I fell. Asa said I’d be fine, right?” He glanced at Gladio, who nodded. “I can’t handle you taking on more guilt ‘cause of me.”

            “You guys have a lot to talk about, so I’m gonna go. Glad your hard head got you through another day, Prompto.”

            “See ya, big guy. Tell Noct to stop by if he’s not too busy.”

            “Will do.”

            Groaning, Prompto pushed himself into a sitting position. He sat there for a moment, letting himself adjust to the new elevation. Whatever they were pumping into him through his IV did a fair job of controlling his pain so it was no more than a dull throb. Boy, did he miss curatives.

            Taking a deep breath, Prompto looked down at Ignis and sighed heavily. “Ig…”

            “Please don’t. I know what you’re about to say, and I’d rather not hear it.” Ignis kept his eyes down and his voice low.

            “No, you don’t know,” Prompto retorted. “You don’t know how much it hurts me when you act like this. You don’t know how much I hate it when you act like this. You’re the first to tell people they don’t need to bear their burdens alone, but look at you. My choices back then were not s’posed to pile up on your shoulders. I didn’t want to make you hurt, and I’m sorry I did. But you need to tell me this stuff. You need to rely on me, Iggy.”

            “I already do. More than you know.”

            “It’s clearly not enough. I don’t just want you at your best, I want you at your worst, too.” Prompto frowned and sniffled loudly. “Look, Ig. I’m just gonna come out with this since we’re already doing _this_. We’ve been together for years. I know you love me, and you know I love you. Right?”

            “Of course.”

            “Then why can’t we act like it?”

            Ignis’ head snapped up and he locked eyes with Prompto. “I…I’m not sure I understand.”

            “I don’t mean all the mushy, flirty teenage stuff. We’re too old for that. I mean the talking, confiding in each other, the closeness people should have at this point. I miss you, Ig.”

            “…Then Gladio was right?” Ignis sighed, looking away again. “How have I not noticed how miserable I’ve made you?”

            “Because you haven’t made me miserable. Far from it, actually. Gods, you used to be so observant. You’re so worried about what might be and what was, you never pay attention to what _is_.”

            “Then tell me.” Ignis reached out to take Prompto’s hands once more.

            “You and I aren’t ever gonna be like we were back then. But we’re here now. We have our world back, and I want you to share it with me. Be _with_ me, Ig. Not nearby, not around, not sleeping on the couch because you came in late. We have so little time together as it is, I just…”

            Rising to his feet, Ignis dried Prompto’s cheek with the cuff of his shirt. Gently, he pulled the blond in for an embrace and held him close. Prompto twisted his hands in the back of Ignis’ shirt and breathed out a shaky sigh.

            Ignis had no idea where to start with everything he needed to tell Prompto. The reasons for his distance, his insecurities, his fears. He never wanted to push Prompto away, but their relationship always worked better while it was ill-defined. Though things had changed over the years, and he hadn’t. This was no longer a relationship surviving on physical comfort alone, it had grown and shifted, but he remained rigid to keep himself going day-to-day. He didn’t want to lose Prompto.

            “I’m sorry,” Ignis mumbled against Prompto’s temple.

            “Me, too.”

            “Ramuh’s beard! Never thought I’d live to see the day where you two exchange more than some longing glances,” Asa announced as he entered the cubicle.

            Reluctantly, Ignis released Prompto and stepped aside.

            Prompto wrinkled up his nose. “Your bedside manner hasn’t improved, Asa.”

            “And you’re still a little damage magnet. Intentional or not.”

            Prompto winced.

            “But it’s still my job to fix you up and make sure you’re not gonna die before I hand you off to your man. So, let’s see if you scrambled your brains when you hit your head.” Pulling out a penlight, Asa began to examine the now-conscious Prompto.

            Ignis watched, eyes growing wide when Asa pulled back the bandage to check Prompto’s eyes. Thankfully the eye was fine, but there was a mess of stitched wounds across his brow and cheek.

            “Looks like it’s all surface damage, but you’ll have some matching scars. Better than wedding rings, right?” Asa teased.

            Prompto blushed and Ignis found himself smirking.

            “Okay, boys. I think Prompto’s okay to go home tonight. Make sure to call me or bring him back if anything changes. I’ll get the nurse to give you some painkillers, but make sure not to get up to any strenuous activities.”

            “Wow…subtle,” grumbled Prompto.

            Asa laughed, patting Prompto’s shoulder before leaving again.

            “I suppose I shall take Gladio up on his offer for a small break,” Ignis said, gaze on the floor as he folded his hands before him. “It would appear I have some lost time to make up for, and we have a decade’s worth of conversations to have.”

            Prompto bit his bottom lip before turning his head to look at Ignis. “It’s not gonna be easy, Ig…”

            “I’m aware, but it needs to be done. This has been festering too long already. It would seem time doesn’t heal _all_ wounds.” And what a wound it was, jagged and bleeding behind his carefully crafted façade.

            Prompto held out his hand.

            Ignis took it.

            He wasn’t sure how, but he felt lighter now than he had earlier today. Like Prompto was helping him carry the weight of his memories. A ludicrous, yet apt notion. While the thought was crossing his mind, he was struck with the sudden urge to wrap his arms around Prompto and never let go. An urge he believed he had the time and right to enjoy now.

            “Ig, you okay?”

            Lifting his head, Ignis looked into Prompto’s eye. His heart thumped hard, and suddenly he was twenty-two again. Sitting by the campfire, Prompto cross-legged on the ground next to him. Gladio and Noct roughhousing on the other side of their camp. This wasn’t a typical evening, but it was one of Ignis’ favorites. Sharing a companionable silence with the blond firecracker, looking through the day’s adventures on his camera. These were always moments when he felt most comfortable, most relaxed. Many of his best memories included Prompto in some way or other. Why hadn’t he let those override the bad memories? Why hadn’t he realized then how much he loved Prompto?

            And just like that, the guilt was back. This time colored with regret. Prompto deserved so much more, but he was selfish and didn’t want to let him go.

            “No,” Ignis finally admitted, “I’m not, but having you with me helps.”

            “I’ll do whatever I can.”

            Licking his lips, Ignis brushed a quick kiss across Prompto’s uninjured cheek. “I’ll go get your medication while the nurse removes your IV.”

            Swallowing hard, Prompto nodded.

            Breathing out a steadying breath, Ignis left Prompto’s side. They had so many things to talk about in the coming days, but perhaps this could patch the gaping hole in his heart. A hole he let bleed for too long.

            Ignis admitted to himself how nice it would feel to love again, to openly tell Prompto how much he meant to him, to give him all the affection he deserved. He missed Prompto, too.

            Perhaps, after the Insomnian Restoration was well on its way to being completed, they could all go on a camping trip. Like old times. Gladio and Noctis could fish at a nearby stream while he and Prompto enjoyed one another’s company by the fire.

            That time was a long way off. They still had monumental amounts of work to do, but for the first time in a long time, Ignis wasn’t trapping himself in the past or looking on the future with fear and uncertainty.

            Distracted by his own thoughts, Ignis didn’t notice Prompto approach him until the blond was close enough to press a tender kiss to his shoulder. He forgot how adorable his short little chocobo could be. He needed to get to know the man all over again.

            “Ready to go, love? You’re alright walking?” Ignis asked, slipping his arm around Prompto’s waist.

            “Yup. Talk about the blind leading the blind, though,” he joked, grinning then wincing when the expression stretched his injury.

            Ignis laughed. “Don’t be silly. Between us, we have the vision of a healthy, two-eyed person.”

            Prompto barked out a laugh of his own. “Gods, it’s been too long since I heard that dry humor.” Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Prompto faced Ignis and wrapped his arms around his neck. With a gentle squeeze, he tugged Ignis down for a proper kiss. “I love you so much,” he whispered against his lips.

            “And I love you. I’ll try to show you more often just how much.”

            “I don’t need miracles overnight, but I’ll look forward to it.”

            “Let’s start small, shall we?” Ignis asked, sliding a hand up to cradle Prompto’s cheek. “I know you said we were too old for the _mushy stuff_ , but will a kiss suffice? I owe you too many to count, after all. And a conversation for each one I give.”

            Prompto smiled into the kiss, despite his pain. “It’s a good start, Ig.”


End file.
